Guiding Light
by MarqueeMoonGirl
Summary: Every afternoon, an apparition from 2D's past drifted by the window inside Feel Good, Inc: a ghostly floating windmill island, being chased by phantom helicopters. Short & angsty. ONESHOT


_Guiding Light _

_By MarqueeMoonGirl_

"Feel good." A last twang of the guitar, and the song was over. 2D looked up at the crowd spread out in front of the stage, then realized he shouldn't have bothered. The prostitutes and their clientele had never, in the seven months he'd been inside the Feel Good, Inc. tower, applauded after a song. They never talked either, other then the occasional moan of satisfaction.

The giant screens behind him winked out. 2D's shoulders sagged.

This place was empty and soulless; a glamorous contraption that you had to be inside of to see the ugliness. He didn't want to sing the same song over and over and over anymore. He wanted to stop, but he couldn't. He'd once known the lyrics to other songs, but he'd forgotten them long ago. That was part of the strange and unsettling power Feel Good Inc. had over its occupants.

But the thought of escaping held no pleasure to him. There was a reason why he'd entered the Tower in the first place. Outside were memories of her.

Every afternoon, an apparition from his past drifted by the large window. A ghostly floating windmill island, being chased by phantom helicopters.

But seven months ago, those helicopters had been decidedly real. And again, they had chased the windmill, but this time they'd shot it down.

They'd killed Noodle.

The second day after they'd arrived at the Inc., the windmill had started flying past the three-story window, his only link to the world outside. He had been ecstatic at first. Against all odds, Noodle had survived! He'd pointed it out to Murdoc, who had been in 'the pit', a skinny redhead's arms around his waist. "Murdoc, look! It's Noodle; she's comin'!"

The bassist shook his head, momentarily turning his attention away from the girl. "Mate, that's not possible. They dropped a _bomb_ on the windmill. A nuclear-fuckin' bomb. You don't just walk away from somethin' like that."

"B-but…" 2D stammered. "S-she's right there. She looks…_fine_."

Two helicopters had zoomed by the tower. 2D stepped back, his eyes widening. "NO!" He brought his fists down on the glass. She'd cheated death before only to die in front of his eyes.

Then the helicopters and the floating island faded out of view.

From the pit, Murdoc had smirked. "Told you." The redhead gently squeezed his stomach, the bassist murmuring in happiness.

2D had stared at where Noodle's windmill had last been. Seeing Noodle again, only to watch her vanish…it was almost as bad as losing her again. The intense feelings of guilt that he'd pushed out of his mind since entering the Tower came pouring back; that he should've gone with her, he could've protected her, somehow he might've been able to stop the helicopters from shooting the windmill out of the sky.

But he hadn't. He hadn't done anything. He was only useless, stupid Stu-Pot.

The windmill and helicopters had come back every afternoon since, for seven long months. Once, they had appeared in the middle of his song. Still singing, he made his way to the window, and had pressed his face against the glass. What he'd heard had almost made him cry.

Noodle was playing her guitar, sitting on the edge of the island and swinging her legs back and forth in time to the rhythm. He could almost hear the gentle melody, and her voice singing along.

She had a beautiful voice.

Now, the screens behind him flickered on again. His cue. How many times had he sung this song today? Fifteen? Forty? He'd lost count.

"_Feel good."_ He sang. Murdoc emerged from the pit, several prostitutes clinging to him, and grabbed his bass. The first thumping notes blasted out of the speakers.

"_Feel good."_ Russel snapped his drumsticks against the cymbals. Like the people strewn over the floor, the drummer didn't talk anymore. He just played.

When they'd first arrived at the tower, that hadn't been the case. But slowly, so slowly he hadn't realized it until much later, Russel became less outgoing until he hardly said anything to Murdoc or 2D. The Inc. had worn him down until he was a shadow of his former self.

Would it grind him down too?

He looked up at the window again. _"Feel g-"_ He stopped. A second later, the bass and drums stopped as well.

The windmill was flying past the window again. But this time, it was flying much closer to the Feel Good Inc. Tower then it had ever flown before. It filled the window with its lush beauty. The green leaves of the trees fluttered in the light breeze outside, the red-and-white striped windmill…after the darkness inside the Inc., the vivid colors outside were almost blinding.

On the edge of the island, Noodle's ghost stood up, holding her guitar. Looking through the window, her mouth curled into an impish grin. "2D-kun." She said.

Murdoc's bass slipped from his hands. "Holy shit."

"2D-kun," she repeated. "You can't keep yourself in here like this."

" I-I couldn't stay in Kong. None of us could, a-after you di…" He fell silent.

Noodle smiled again, a sad smile. "But none of you belong here either. This place is for people who would willingly waste their lives." She blinked, and a small tear ran down her cheek. "Murdoc-san, Russel-san, 2D-kun; please don't throw away your lives for me."

---

2D sat upright, breathing heavily. His eyes darted frantically around the small room. Neon tubes on the wall. Triple screen PONG. All the keyboards that could be crammed into the small space.

2D wasn't inside Feel Good, Inc; that had only existed as a set inside a London studio. He was in his bedroom at Kong. The whole thing'd been a dream. A silly dream based off one of their music videos.

He laid down again, the springs of his mattress creaking as he did so. He grabbed a large bottle of painkillers off the nightstand. Lately, he'd been going through the pills at an incredible rate, even for him. The extra-strong pills the doctor had prescribed him simply made him forget about the pain in his head, as well as everything else.

His headaches weren't as bad as they once had been, but he'd kept taking the extra-strength pills anyway. Now, he couldn't stop. He needed the pills, needed the way they made him feel.

2D unscrewed the lid and counted out six tablets, three times the recommended dose. It wasn't nearly enough to kill him, but it would make him forget everything for several blissful hours.

The pills would make him forget that Noodle was gone forever.

He stared at the little white pills in his palm…

"_Please don't throw away your life for me." Noodle pleaded._

…and slid them back into the open bottle. Screwing the cap back on, 2D put it back on the nightstand and wrapped the bed's comforter around himself for warmth.

"God, I miss you, Noodle." He whispered.

END


End file.
